Warcraft IV: Generations
by Chaos Theorum
Summary: Post Frozen Throne:Illidan lives Malfurion is missing Arthas has fused with the Lich King and is marching the Scourge on Stormwind City. But in spite of this, something sinister and ancient is stirring beneath the World Tree...
1. Verse I: Awakening

Warcraft IV: Generations

This is my continuation of WC3: The Frozen Throne's awesome storyline, and for my purposes, Illidan survived his battle with Arthas, but just barely. Also, Arthas has a duel voice, one is the Lich King's that said "_Now, we are one!"_ at the end of Frozen Throne, the second is Arthas' voice but the Lich King's is the dominant voice

The pain…

The pain and the cold

Those were the last things that Illidan Stormrage remembered before the warm dark had swallowed him. He was free at last from the existence that had haunted him. But it did not last. Kael and Vashj had survived the undead swarms and "rescued" him from the chilling frost that Arthas had left him to. He sat up in his bed, looking around the makeshift medical center his minions had brought him to. He looked down at his poorly healing wound. There was ice on either side of the gash, and it was interfering with his body's efforts to mend itself. He would carry it for the rest of his life, a cruel reminder of his monumental failure. His scouts had reported that after his defeat, Arthas had succeeded in merging with the Lich King. It was over. Kil'jaeden would find him, and he would pay for his arrogance. It was only a matter of time.

Ner'zhul was free.

The Lich King stretched his conscience outward, looking for signs of that damned demon elf.

"_**Ahhhh, there we are." **_

But the elf was no longer a threat. He was broken. He would probably go mad soon enough. There were more important things to attend to. But first and foremost was the eradication of the renegades.

"**_The Forsaken,'_** his laugh echoed across the dead glacier, **_'pathetic."_**

Ner'zhul paused as his general, Anu'barak, ascended the tower.

The fallen spider king bowed low, "**Master, the ships are ready, we sail at your command." **

"**_Excellent,' _**Ner'zhul rose from the Frozen Throne, and then began to descend his spire, giving orders to Anu'barak, who followed close behind.

"**_Anu'barak prepare the troops, you will lead the Scourge south, to the new human capitol of Stormwind in Azeroth."_**

Anu'barak was confused, "**Why will you not lead the legions yourself my lord?"**

The Lich King turned to his general and smiled quite insanely,

"_**I am going to pay Sylvanas a little visit."**_

As the powerful waves of magic caused by the Lich King's rebirth wash over Mount Hyjal, in a forgotten prison beneath the Tree of Eternity, an ancient power stirs….

Baalrin was awake. He pondered how this could be, the spell the Arch-druid Mithrandir had cast on him 80,000 years ago was supposed to last forever. That could only mean two things. One, the power of the World Tree was fading and two, that Azeroth had a new ruler. But the spell that bound him to the roots of the World Tree was strong, even with the World Tree waning, he still was not powerful enough to break free. He needed more time before he could exact his revenge. So he would wait awhile longer, and when he was free, he would show Mithrandir and the rest of them what a **_real_** monster looked like.

"Soon' he whispered to no one, his jailor's having fled him long ago

'You will pay……..Sons of Mithrandir Stormrage"

Well that is the end of Chapter 1. As you can probably tell, I LUV Arthas. He is one of the coolest characters Blizzard ever spawned. And I won't be updating until I get 10 reviews


	2. Verse II: Providence

Warcraft IV: Generations

Verse II: Providence

AN: And we are back. I am really excited about this story. Anyway this

Next chapter will have the tiniest bit of angst. Its not enough to change the category, but it might make some people uncomfortable. All I can say to them is; too bad. Enjoy the story.

It was almost over. Illidan's held his hunter blade to his stomach, ready to end his life. While some might see suicide as the coward's way out, those people had no concept of his alternative. Ending his own life was far better than facing Kil'jaeden's wrath.

"Peace at last."

"_Hold fast, Illidan Stormrage!"_ a voice boomed at the edge of his tent. Illidan spun around, his blade forgotten. Behind him stood a human, dressed in a brown cloak with a gnarled staff. Some thing about this mortal seemed intimidating, a feeling Illidan was not in the mood for.

"_Illidan I am disappointed, you cheat death at every turn for nearly 20,000 years only to invite it to claim you now?"_

Illidan was not in the mood for this. It was one thing to be interrupted in the middle of a suicide attempt. It was quite another to be insulted as well.

"You dare speak to me? And with such an obvious lack of respect! Do you have any idea the power I command?"

"_Don't fool yourself boy. I could break with my hands tied."_ The statement was quick and harsh, and made Illidan wince. It was true, he knew it. A contest of magicks with this man would not last long; he could feel it in his bones.

"Who are you?"

"_Who I am is of no consequence at this time. What is important is the terrible tidings I bring.'_

This was interesting, Illidan thought, what could possibly be more terrible than waiting for a demon lord to come and obliterate his very soul.

"_The Burning Legion has left this world to its fate. While this may seem at first as wonderful, it also carries with it a horrible truth. Kil'jaeden realized after Arthas and Ner'zhul merged, they became one of the most powerful beings to ever walk Azeroth. The Lich King had grown too powerful to control long ago, this was why he enlisted your services to begin with. This new development however, hade made him too powerful to be stopped; not without enormous casualties on the Legions side. So the Dark Host moved on, scouring the Great Dark Beyond for a new world to conquer. This unfortunately, leaves Azeroth do deal with Kil'jaeden's folly alone. The Lich King will destroy the Eastern Lands. And he has boasted that he will do so within the next fortnight._

The prophet smiled slightly as he saw Illidan grip the side of his cot.

"_Relax young Stormrage; Arthas' pride has blinded him to_ _Ner'zhul's memories and intuition. The Alliance was taken by surprise in the First Plague. This time they are prepared. Humans are far more resourceful than they are often given credit for. It will take at least 6 months to turn the Southeastern Continent into a new Plaguelands._

Illidan had had enough. This old mortal had taken up enough of his time.

"And why, you wizened old fool, should I care about the fate of mortals?"

Illidan found himself pinned to the wall, struggling to free him self from the stranger's binding spell. The stranger looked absolutely terrifying. His eyes were red, shining like two terrible stars and his face was contorted into a horrible snarl. At that moment, Kael made the mistake of investigating the commotion coming from the tent. Kael was staggered that his master was so incapacitated. He conjured the fire of hell to his hands ready to incinerate the intruder.

"Get away from Lord Illidan!" Kael hurled his fire at the intruder, but all it succeeded in doing was further enraging the stranger.

"_THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU BOY!"_ with a wave of his hand, the prophet sent the young prince flying from the tent to crash into the armory. The stranger turned his attention back to Illidan.

"_YOU CALL ME AN OLD FOOL! I AM MIDEV! THE LAST GUARDIAN, THE GREATEST WIZARD TO EVER DRAW BREATH IN THIS WORLD! AND YOU CALL ME A FOOL AS IF I DID NOT ALREADY KNOW! I AM WELL AWARE OF MY FOOLISHNESS; I HAVE BEEN PAYING FOR IT FOR OVER 600 YEARS! I AM THE ONE WHO BROUGHT THE MIGHTY ORCS TO THIS PLANET, I AM THE ONE WHO OPENED THE DARK PORTAL OF THE BLASTED LANDS, I AM THE ONE WHO'S WRITINGS ALLOWED ARCHIMONDE TO RETURN TO THIS WORLD, AND I'LL BE DAMNED FOR ANOTHER 600 YEARS IF I DO NOT SET THE WHEELS OF MY ATONMENT IN MOTION THIS DAY!NOW ARE YOU GOING TO SET YOUR ARROGANCE ASIDE FOR TEN MINUTES, OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DRAIN IT FROM YOU THROUGH THE ORIFACE OF MY CHOOSING?"_

"…."

"_WELL?"_

Illidan's reply was barely a whisper

"What would you have me do?"

The fire faded from Midev's eyes as he set Illidan back on his cot. Stormrage seemed humbled. This was very, very good. Now he would listen.

"_I am glad you still have some sense in you. Very well. As I said, the Lich King will destroy the Eastern Lands, that much is certain. And when he succeeds, his forces will have increased ten-fold. But he will not be satisfied with the East alone, he cannot. He will then set his dark ambitions on Kalimdor."_

At this Illidan's eyes grew large beneath his blindfold. He could not let Kalimdor fall. He would not see his brother and Tyrande die.

"How can I stop the Lich King when I could not Arthas? It is impossible…"

"_No boy it is not impossible. There is a way to defeat him, mighty though he is. You must take what is left of your forces and sail south through the Maelstrom till you reach the Broken Isles, where the tomb of the Dark Titan Sargareas lies. There you will find a tauren, Riddikk Ironblade. Enlist his aid to guide you to the Southern Continent of Pandarea. From there journey to the Jade City, where you must seek out the Abbot Mushin Stormpaw. In his care is trusted the keys to your peoples salvation."_

"What could the Pandarean's possibly have that could help us?"

Midev smiled.

"_The blades of Baalrin Demonpact, the Founder of the Demon Hunter Order."_

Woot! Anyway that's my time. I need 10 more reviews for another chapter. See ya then.


	3. Verse III: Closed Doors

Warcraft IV: Generations

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own any of this. That's Blizzard's territory

A/N: I won't bother you with the long-winded tale of my travels since last I graced this site. The point is I'm back, and this yarn in particular has been stewing in my creative juices.

Verse III: Burning Bridges

The meditation was growing more difficult with each day. Illidan winced as he felt another probing tentacle of energy from...somewhere, trying to force it's way into his mind. And just as before, the tentacle receded as soon as he tried to ascertain it's origin. These intrusions were unsettling, and their growing strength and frequency even more so. After convincing himself that he'd chased off he mental burglar, Illidan resumed his meditation. He focused on the the memory of the palm, the Guardian's Palm, and what it had held.

******

_Illidan sat on the edge of his bunk processing what Midev had just told him. He'd heard stories of Baalrin at the academy, thousands of years ago. The official story was that the Demon Hunter's had been born out of his people's natural place on the fence between this world and the world of magic. That the ritual blindness and tattoos and crescent blades had been introduced by different members of the High Council and the superstitious natures of the early member's of the Order. _

_But there had always been whispers of another story. One in which an elf had given up his very soul and a portion of the soul's of his disciples to spare Kalimdor from some primordial evil. Baalrin had paid this price,and even succeeded in saving his people. But he was feared for the power he'd received in return. And then he vanished._

_Illidan's thoughts were interrupted by Midev._

"**I take it I have your agreement then? The blades are the only way to save Azeroth.'**_ the wizard traced the gnarls of his staff with his thumb. He continued, _**'However, you must first learn to harness Kil'jaden's energies if you are to succeed. The tauren will not trust anything even remotely demonic, for good reason. If you meditate on what I'm about to show you, you can hide the taint in your blood, and in the process mask yourself somewhat from Ner'zul's spies." **_The Guardian approached Illidan and stretched out his hand, palm open. The air in the room began to swirl and coalesce in the center of Mediv's hand as Illidan watched in a mix of astonishment and horror. "_**Don't be afraid Illidan, despite all the doors you've closed, many more paths are opened.**_" The light grew from the wizard's palm, encompassing everything, infecting every synapse of Illidan's mind until finally his wounded psyche could take no more._

_*******_

Again he felt himself shaken loose by his own soul, unwilling to force the crucial change he'd been striving towards for nearly 4 hours. The Demon Hunter was not fond of being so utterly overpowered, but what the prophet had shown him had shaken him to the core. His leathery wings furled and released over and over again, a nervous habit he'd developed since his...transformation. He settled again, determined to get this right before he addressed his generals. Quieting his mind, Illidan focused on the images Mediv had shown him:

_Slowly, the first image formed; it was of him and his brother, conquering Ashara side by side. No evil magicks, no trickery, just his blades and and Malfurion's druidic powers. The Well of Eternity was shattered by the dark empress, but the twins vowed to rebuild, together. Slowly the empire again took form, with the brothers at the helm._

_Then he saw the rise of the Scourge, the conquering of Lorderon, and the Alliance's journey East. Illidan convincing Tyrande that the sooner a bond was forged between the newcomers, the better they'd be able to fight the Legion. Without his brother casting him out of the camp near Hyjal, Illidan never fell prey to Arthas' pretty words of power and the Skull of Gul'dan. Tichondrias was crushed by the joint forces of the Horde, Alliance, and Silvermoon, and Archimonde soon followed suit._

_Finally, Illidan saw himself and a female night elf, walking side by side through Silvermoon. It wasn't Tyrande, without his rage and madness spawned from many millenia of imprisonment Illidan had been able to move on from his obsession and learn to be genuinely happy for his brother. The girl was Maiv, beautiful and untouched by the same insanity, born from centuries of guarding the Betrayer alone in the dark silence of the Barrows. He was smiling and laughing with her, truly happy._

A life almost lived. If not for his own sins and arrogance, all of that could have been his. The images were beyond mere hindsight or what-could've-beens. They felt like true memories, even down to the smell of Maiv's hair. And then he remembered the prophet's parting words. He may have closed the door on that life, but was it really possible for him to find a new one? To find redemption? Even,dare he hope, happiness? The blades were his one chance to find the answers, and so he locked his powerful mind onto the image of himself and Maiv, held that phantom feeling of joy and contentment with the tenacity of a dragon's jaws. Slowly, he felt his wings begin to draw inward and his horns began to melt back into his skull. Ignoring the intense pain of his body and spirit re-arranging themselves, he clamped down harder on the memories that weren't quite his. He felt the demonic power begin to spiral inward into a small singularity, dense with the force of his rage and his hatred. When he felt it solidify and he could no longer feel the taught expanse of his wings, he forced the devilsh orb of psychic energy deep into his guts. There it would wait, patiently, for whenever he would need it's frightening power and release it again.

Illidan sat still, his heartbeat erratic. He slowly ran a hand up his face and breathed a sigh of relief when he found his forehead smooth and unmarked by horns. He stood slowly, correcting his balance in the absence of his prodigious wingspan.

He gritted his teeth, the grimace slowly twisting into a grin.

"Now for walking."


End file.
